Forgiveness
by bourbon
Summary: Post-Jump Push Fall. Jordan finds comfort in an unlikely place when Woody rejects her. Can she find her way back to him? And can he forgive her? WJ eventually. COMPLETE.
1. Drowning Sorrows

_OK...this is VERY MUCH a change of pace for me. I never have felt really comfortable writing for Nigel, and I don't really see him with Jordan. I don't see him with **anyone, **really (at least not a woman), but I just had this plot bunny that was multiplying in my head. _

_Rest assured...I am **totally** a W/J shipper, and love will conquer all in this case, but I just wanted to take this little detour and play around a little bit and try something new. _

_I hope neither the N/J shippers or my W/J sisters flame me too badly for this one!_

_XXXXXXXXXXXX_

The weather was as miserable as she felt.

The rain pelted the sidewalk outside like hard little pebbles, and a passing car drove by, sending a splash like a bucket of water on the front window.

She didn't bat an eye, but drained her glass and waved her hand at the bartender. He nodded and poured her another drink.

She could see the front door of the morgue building from her barstool perch. The shift was ending. Bug, Sidney, and Emmy shuffled out huddled under their black umbrellas, and it looked, she thought fittingly, like a funeral procession.

Lily followed a few seconds later with Nigel. He held his coat over their heads to shield them from the rain as they dashed across the street and into the bar. The bell over the door jangled, a cheery intrusion into her gloom.

She braced herself. She had sneaked out of work an hour early to avoid the stares and the questions, and now here they were. Her misery did not want company.

"Looks like someone had the same idea," Lily said as Nigel shook out his coat. Jordan raised her glass joylessly.

"Drowning your sorrows, then?" Nigel asked ruefully as he and Lily slid onto the stools next to her.

"I'm trying, but the little suckers keep coming up for air." She took another swallow.

Lily rubbed her temples. "God, I thought this day would never end. That man is..."

"Pure evil," Nigel finished.

"I can't even comprehend. Garret is _gone._ We've got to get him back. What are we going to do?"

There was nothing to say, of course, and there was no easy answer. The others had lost a fair and firm boss, but that was all. For Jordan, the loss cut much deeper. He was friend and mentor. He had been her rock, her father figure when her own had failed her, and he had betrayed her.

Just as she had steadied herself from that blindside, Woody had rejected her. The double-blow had sent her reeling.

"Does 'Simon Legree' know you skipped out early?" Nigel asked as the bartender set down their glasses.

"Who cares? Let him fire me." She threw back her head and finished off another drink.

"You can't quit now, Jordan. Not with Garret gone." Lily placed a concerned hand on Jordan's wrist.

"Watch me."

"You don't mean that."

She sighed heavily. "I don't know what I mean anymore. Nothing really makes sense right now."

"I know," Lily whispered in quiet understanding. "Any word on Woody?"

His name sent a pang of regret through her. She steeled herself with a long drink. "I wouldn't know."

Lily and Nigel traded confused looks. "What happened, Jordan?"

"Never mind. I wouldn't want to bring the room down even further," she snorted humorlessly. "Let's just say we're not exactly on speaking terms anymore."

She could see Lily's eyes grow as wide as soup plates. "Jordan, I'm sure he's just

..." she started to speak. "I mean...I always just assumed that you two..." She stammered, at a loss for words.

"Woody and I were just friends. And now, we're not even that." She slammed her empty glass down on the bar for emphasis.

"Jordan, I..."

"Look, just drop it, Lily. All right?" She snapped.

Lily cleared her throat in the uncomfortable silence that followed. "I'm...sorry, Jordan. I just...Well, anyway. I guess I'd better be heading out." She looked down in hurt and fiddled in her purse for her carkeys. "Traffic's going to be a nightmare in this weather."

She said goodbye to Nigel and was gone before Jordan could speak.

Jordan slapped the bar with an open palm. "Hey, barkeep. What's a girl gotta do to get some service around here?"

"How many is that, Jordan?" Nigel's voice was soft with concern.

"Who's counting?" she smirked as the bartender poured her another. "_Thank_ you. And pour my pale British friend here one of whatever he's drinking."

He raised a hand to cover his glass, and the indifferent bartender shrugged and walked away.

"What happened at the hospital? Does it have anything to do with that ring?"

"That _ring_. God, why did he give me that damn ring?" She clenched her fists above her head in frustration. " And why the hell didn't I take it?" The words poured out of her. She had always played things close to the vest, too close. And as a result, she had lost Woody. "It was there, right there in front of me all along." Her voice cracked with emotion. "I told him, Nige. I finally told him how I felt."

"What did he say?"

"Um, lemme see. I think his exact words were, 'Get out. _Now_.'" She still heard Woody's voice, cold and empty, ringing in her ears.

"I'm sorry, Jordan," Nigel said after a quiet moment.

"Do you know what it's like to come that close to loving someone, only to have it all ripped away?"

He looked down and fidgeted uncomfortably with his drink coaster. "Yes, Jordan. Yes. I do."

She knew then. _Sarah_. The pain of it all must still have been fresh. "God, I'm sorry, Nigel. I wasn't even thinking. Have you heard any..."

A flicker of emotion played over his face. "She pled guilty to misdemeanor false reporting. She'll probably spend a few months in jail, get some counseling. Maddie's gone to live with her father." His face lit up. "She sent me a picture she'd drawn." Then the smile quickly evaporated. He turned his empty glass over on the bar.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" He only nodded, and they sat there for a moment in a heavy silence. "Well. I guess I'd better go back to my cold and lonely apartment. Joke. I'm joking. My apartment is actually rather warm."

"And how do you think you're getting home? You're not driving, are you?"

"Of _course_ not. I'll...call a cab." She slid off the barstool and nearly landed in a heap. "Oops. The floor isn't really where I thought it would be."

Nigel stood and helped her up. "You'll never get a cab in this weather. Let me drive you."

"It's miles out of your way. Don't worry about me, Nige."

"But I _do_ worry about you, love. It's my lot in life." He dropped a wad of bills on the bar. "You're coming with me."

XXXXX

He had meant to say no when she had invited him in. He had meant to say no when she offered him a drink. But he didn't.

He had sat stiffly on one end of the sofa as she poured him that first glass of wine. She curled up on the other end and drained half the glass and then refilled his and her own. Time was lost, and the empty bottle now lay on the floor at his feet. She had moved to his end of the sofa at some point, with her head against his shoulder.

"Did you think you were going to marry her? Sarah?"

He thought about it for a long moment. "I'm not really sure I'm the marrying kind, Jordan."

"But you loved her."

"Yes. I thought so."

"She doesn't know what she's missing out on."

He went on in a small voice. "And what about you and Woody?"

"I remember the first time I saw him at that bank robbery. He looked like a high school kid on a field trip." She covered her face with her hands. "Why didn't any of you tell me I was in love with him and didn't even know it?"

He stroked her hair gently. "We all thought you'd figure it out for yourself, love."

She shook her head. "Oh, I did. That's the irony of it. I didn't really understand what I had until I was in danger of losing it. Only problem is, it was too late. He's going through this horrible thing, and all I want to do is be there with him, but he thinks the only reason I told him how I felt was because I pity him. Ain't that a kicker?"

"Jordan, he's scared. He doesn't know..."

She threw a hand up. "_Don't._ Don't _tell_ me he's just scared and confused and he'll come around. You didn't see him. You didn't hear him. He _hates_ me."

"He doesn't..." he started, but then let his voice trail off.

"God, what's _wrong _with me? Why do I always screw things up? She began to cry and he reached up and dried her tears with the tail of his shirt.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Jordan. You're beautiful and smart and drop dead sexy, and if he can't see that..." She sniffed and rubbed at her red eyes with the heel of her hand.

"Woody's an idiot if he can't see how much you love him. And he's a fool for letting you go. I'd never make that mistake."

She gave a small, wistful smile. "Thanks, Nigel, but I'm not sure how drop-dead sexy I am right now."

He moved a dampened strand of hair from her cheek and swallowed hard. "You look positively beautiful."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and blinked. "Nigel, I..."

But his mouth was on hers then. She reached up and put a hand on his shoulder to push him away, but she didn't. He kissed her, long and hard, and for a moment, she felt something other than pain and grief. For a moment, she was desired. For a moment, she could drown the hurt in that.

She rested her hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer.


	2. Morning Light

Then the morning came.

She had experimented, briefly, with drugs while she was in college. For a fleeting moment, she found she could anesthetize herself against the grief and rage. But then morning would follow, and with it, the inevitable crash.

It was like that now. She had retreated to the far corner of the bed, shivering in a thin t-shirt. The alcohol had not been enough to numb her the night before. It had taken something else to dull the pain. There had been a flash of a moment the night before, she thought, when her mind had been utterly blank, when she had felt..._nothing._

Then the dark hours of sleep followed, and the pain of loss cut even sharper. It was all she felt now. She couldn't begin to unravel her emotions about what had happened the night before. There was too much to unravel: shame, guilt, regret.

Nigel was lying next to her in a contented sleep. _Nigel_...her friend and colleague. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be Woody's body pressed against hers in the still of the night. She had shut her eyes tight as Nigel had eased her back onto the bed and imagined it was Woody's hands on her body, Woody's mouth on hers.

She had eluded Woody for years, always stepping away when he had leaned in for that goodnight kiss and then stalked off with a look of hurt in his eyes. Three years she had dodged and dashed. It had only taken a cheap bottle of red wine to end up here with Nigel.

He stirred as the light filtered in through her windows, and she hugged her knees to her chest. His eyes fluttered open and met hers. She braced herself and waited. What would it be? How would he feel? He slowly sat up without a word and searched her face. After a moment, he threw his legs over the side of the bed, elbows on knees.

The silence was awful.

"Say something, Jordan." His voice was still rough with sleep.

"I don't know what to say."

He exhaled and ran a hand through his boot-black hair. "What do we do?"

There was a pause. "We...get up. Go to work."

"And pretend this never happened?" he said with an unintended sharp edge.

"No, that's not what I meant," she started wearily. "I just..."

"Let me guess. You were drunk. You didn't know what you were doing."

"No," she said. "I knew exactly what I was doing. And why." She looked away. "You know why, too."

His eyes fell to the floor. "There are two other people in this room. Aren't there?" It was a statement, not really a question.

She blinked back tears. "We're both hurting so much..." There was no point in going on.

"Well..." His voice was heavy. "I'd better go. Wouldn't want to be late for work." He fished on the floor for his clothes and shuffled into the bathroom.

She sat there with her chin on her knees as she listened to the sound of the water running. Yet another of her messes, and yet another person she had dragged into it. If at all possible, things seemed even bleaker than they had the night before.

She was jolted back to awareness by the ringing of the phone. It was work, no doubt, and she sat motionless while it continued to buzz. Finally, she reached to her bedside and answered.

"Jordan...?" The voice on the other end was rough and strained, but she recognized it from that one word. Her heart fluttered at the sound.

"Woody!"

"I know it's early. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" There was something wrong. She felt it. She sat upright as her chest began to pound with fear.

"No! No! It's okay. What is it? What's wrong?"

"I didn't know who else to call..."

"You can _always_ call me, Woody. Please, tell me. What is it?"

"I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to speak to me again..."

"We don't have to talk about it now. Please, just tell me what's wrong?"

"They're taking me in for the second surgery this morning." No words followed, but she could hear the sound of his deep, steadying breaths.

"What is it?"

"I'm scared, Jordan. I'm really scared."

She ached for him. "I know, I know. But it's going to be okay. You're going to walk again. Do you hear me? You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine," she repeated, although she wasn't sure she believed it herself.

"God, I'm so scared." His voice cracked, and she thought she could hear the soft, muffled sound of crying.

"I'll be right there, Woody. I'll be there when you wake up. Okay? Just hang in there."

She hung up before he could hear her cry. She knelt on the bed as her shoulders shook with quiet sobs, unaware the Nigel had entered the room.

"Jordan?"

She looked up and brushed the tears away. "Nigel! I was just about to..." She jumped from the bed and began to pick her clothes from of the floor.

"That was Woody, wasn't it?" he cut her off.

She stopped. "Yeah."

They stood in an awkward silence for a moment.

Finally, he spoke. "Go. Jump in the shower, and I'll drive you to work. You can pick up your car and be at the hospital in half an hour."

She managed a choked _thank you_ before she jumped off the bed, her hand brushing against his as she dashed into the bathroom.


	3. Second Chances

"Woody, can you hear me?"

The voice seemed distant, as if it were coming from the end of a long tunnel, and he felt as if he were hurtling toward it.

His eyes opened, and she was there, her cheeks damp with a thin trail of tears.

"Jordan..." he croaked_. "_You're _here."_

"I told you I would be. They wouldn't let me see you until now, but I'm here."

He blinked hard as his eyes adjusted to the light. He was alive, back in his room, and yes, she was here. He had always felt fearless in the face of death, but he had been terrified that morning as they wheeled him back into surgery. But then he closed his eyes and retraced every curve of her face in his mind.

_Jordan_. She would be there when he woke up. It didn't matter what the surgery held. Jordan was coming.

There was no pain yet from the surgery, and his head still felt thick with the anesthesia. He felt her hand slip into his, and this time, he squeezed it tight and held it there.

"The doctor said you came through the surgery just fine." She sniffed and gave a small, reassuring smile through her tears. "He said there was no permanent nerve damage and there's no reason for you not to walk again."

He meant only to smile back up at her, to say something clever, but as he opened his mouth to speak, the words caught in his throat, and he choked on his own tears of relief.

She leaned down and brushed his cheeks with her gentle hand. "It's okay. You're going to be okay."

"I didn't think I'd ever walk again."

"But you will." She smiled slyly. "And I'm going to be there kicking your ass every step of the way. Hear me?"

He laughed and reached out to touch her face as he bathed in the warmth of her smile. "I'm so sorry..."

"Sorry for what?"

"The things I said to you. The way I spoke to you. You didn't deserve it."

Her face clouded over. "Hey. We don't have to talk about this, Woody. Water under the bridge, okay?"

"No. I need to say this." He was weakened by all he had been through and knew this would take all the energy he had, but he had to speak. "I know now how hard it must have been for you to say those things to me when I was on my way to the O.R, but I really thought the only reason you said them was because you felt sorry for me. I'd been waiting for so long, and all of a sudden..." He shook his head. "But then when you left, and I was lying here, all I could think about was you and how miserable I was without you. And I realized that sometimes it takes almost losing someone you love to make you realize just how much you love them."

She couldn't speak for the fresh shower of tears that had spilled down her face. She gently stroked his pale forehead.

"I'm asking you to forgive me," he said simply. She paused a long moment, and her eyes were dark. She could not look at him. "Jordan?"

Finally, she shook her head emphatically. "You don't need to ask for my forgiveness, Woody."

"Then do I get another second chance?" She could only nod, and then she leaned down to kiss him. When she stood up again, he looked at her with a perfect smile. "That's the best medicine I could ever get, Jordan."

"Let's just put this behind us. Start fresh." Her smile was gone, and her voice was hard. He cocked his head. Something was wrong.

"Are you all right, Jordan?"

She looked back at him suddenly with wide eyes. "Fine. Why?"

"I don't know..." he said warily. "Did the doctor say something? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No! I swear! I'm just..." She put her heads on her face. "I can't tell whether I'm coming or going anymore." She managed a small laugh. "I'm running on fumes here."

"I know. And I'm sorry I put you through that."

"_Stop_ apologizing. You were shot in the gut, Woody. _You_ have nothing to apologize for." She stopped suddenly and looked away, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

Had he heard that correctly? _You_ have nothing to apologize for. _You_. It was a funny word to emphasize. As if _she_ did.

But she was here, and she loved him, and nothing else mattered. It was just a word.

She seemed to be pulling away, and he reached out again for her hand. "Don't go just yet."

"I won't. I'm not going anywhere. But you need to rest."

He nodded and let his eyelids fall as he watched her there, wanting her face to be the last thing he saw before he drifted off.


	4. Going Home

It was amazing the number of ways she found to avoid Nigel in the days that followed: the excuses to exit when they found themselves in the same room, the detours around the office to miss crossing paths.

She knew if Woody had never called the morning after, it wouldn't be this way. Nigel was a friend, he was _family. _They would have moved on, spoken of what happened fondly, maybe even laughed about it some day.

But Woody _had_ called, and seeing Nigel every day served as a reminder of the secret she kept from the man she loved.

It was in the first few days of Woody's recovery that she thought she might give it away. She wore her guilt on her sleeve. But then he had improved dramatically. Feeling returned to his legs, and he was almost immediately up and walking on crutches.

Now, everything was going to be all right, Woody would never need to know a thing. Avoiding Nigel suddenly seemed very childish.

At least that's what she told herself as she stood outside trace with a file gripped in her hands. Nigel was inside, alone, and it was a situation she usually tried to avoid, but she took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.

"Morning, Nige," she said as brightly as she could muster.

He looked up from the slide he was preparing. "Hello, Jordan."

They stood smiling stiffly at each other, saying nothing. It was already not going as well as she had hoped. "Do you believe this weather we're having?" She groaned inwardly. _Weather?_

"Hmmm," came his reply. The buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead filled the silent space. "How've you been?"

"Great. Great. Fine. _Busy_. I mean, you wouldn't _believe_," she said with exaggeration. "You?"

"Fine." Another silence. She pretended to be engrossed in her file. "How's Woody?"

She looked up, blinked. "He's...great." She couldn't help but smile. "He's walking. The doctors are amazed at his progress. He's actually coming home tomorrow. You should see him getting around on his cane. He's really..." She realized she was gushing. "He's doing well. Thanks."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. He deserves a break." He smiled wistfully, and she gave him a small, doubtful frown. "Well, come on, Jordan, I'm not a completely heartless git. Congratulations. Really."

"Thanks," she whispered in a small voice. She took a hesitant step forward. "Look. I know I've been avoiding you lately..."

"_Really?"_

_"_Oh, tell me you haven't run the other way more than once when you've seen me coming." He gave her a sheepish shrug. "We can be adults about this." Her eyes scanned the room, searching for the words. "We both needed something, someone. But in the end, I'm not Sarah."

"And I'm not Woody," he added sadly.

She nodded. "What happened was a mistake. I think we both know that, but there's no reason we can't still be friends, is there?"

He looked down and shuffled his feet. "I was half-pissed and out of my mind over Sarah that night, but I admit it...I've always had a crush, Jordan. So, you'll have to forgive me if this is one mistake I don't entirely regret making."

Her mouth dropped. "I...didn't know, Nigel."

"Of course not. Despite all your protestations to the contrary, you only had eyes for Woodrow." She blushed and looked away. "Tell me. Are you happy, Jordan?"

Her grin broadened. "Yes. I actually think I'm..._happy_." Oh, there was the small matter of the secret between her and Woody, but she was happy for the first time in a very long while. "I'm happy."

"I'm glad." He smiled back at her. He stepped forward and impulsively kissed her on the forehead before sweeping from the room and leaving her there with her file.

XXXXXXXX

"Can we stop at the morgue, Jordan?"

She whipped her head around. "What? I mean..._why?_"

"Well, everybody was so nice. Sending flowers, visiting. I'd kind of like to thank them in person. It's right on the way."

Her jaw pumped up and down wordlessly. "Um...are you sure you're up to it?"

"Yeah, I think. Just for a minute or two."

"You're the boss." She changed lanes and made the turn-off for the morgue building.

Her heart began to pound on the ride up the elevator. She closed her eyes. _Breathe, Jordan, breathe._

"How's Nigel?"

Her eyes snapped open. Woody was smiling at her benignly. "Nigel? Why?"

"I don't know...he was the only one who never came to the hospital. I thought maybe he was sick or out of town or something."

"No. I don't know. Busy. We're all swamped with this new regime. I'm sure it's nothing." She leaned forward and jabbed nervously at their floor button.

"Oh. OK. I thought maybe I'd said something to offend him maybe without even knowing it."

"Hey, ya got me. I don't really keep tabs on Nigel."

She was relieved when the doors opened, and she helped him out. He was doing well. He was pale and still weak, but he was able to get around with just a cane. His mental outlook was good, too. He had his moments of moodiness when he was frustrated with his progress or when he would wake from a dream of the shooting, but he was happy, over the moon, really.

Lily saw him first. She burst into tears, of course, and hugged him so hard she nearly knocked him over. She dragged him into the break room where her co-workers poured themselves morning coffee.

Jordan hadn't seen him smile like that in awhile. There were tears and laughter, and Woody bashfully wiped the lipstick kisses off his cheeks. Slocum walked by and cast a disapproving eye on their gathering, but not even he could dampen their spirits.

Someone pulled Jordan aside, and Woody found himself face to face with Nigel.

"Nigel! Good to see you," he said cheerfully and offered his hand.

There was just a beat before Nigel took it. "You're looking well, Woodrow."

"_Feelin_g well." He beamed as he kept pumping Nigel's hand. "Being able to walk has that effect." He lifted the end of his cane and gestured toward Jordan. "And there's the other reason. I tell ya, I am one lucky man, Nigel," he said, his eyes still on Jordan. "I survive a gunshot wound, find out I'm going to walk again, and get Jordan back all in the space of a couple of days."

"Lucky indeed," Nigel said flatly.

"She's amazing. You know, I didn't think this would ever happen. Too many mixed signals, too many crossed wires. But it's going to be different this time. No lies, no dishonesty, we're starting fresh and I...can't believe I'm telling you all this." He blushed and laughed as he looked down in embarassment.

Nigel offered his hand again. "Good luck, Woody."

It seemed to Woody a very solemn delivery, but he took Nigel's hand. "Thanks, Nige."

"Take care of our girl, would you?"

"For as long as she'll let me." He grinned and Nigel clapped him on the shoulder as he moved away.

Jordan pushed her way through the small crowd that had gathered in the break room, her face set in an anxious frown. "Well, what was that all about?"

"What do you mean?"

"You and Nigel."

"We were just talking. I think he's taking that whole thing with the psycho soccer mom kind of hard."

"I guess so."

He slipped his free arm around her waist and whispered in her ear. "I know the doc still hasn't cleared me for action yet, but all I want to do is get you home alone."

"Yeah, and just how long did he say it was going to be?" she whispered back.

"Patience, Jordan. We've waited this long." She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. He laughed and gave her a quick kiss. "Come on, take me home."

He squeezed her hand and turned for the door, not noticing the anxious glance she and Nigel traded as she followed him out.


	5. Lunch Hour

_Why do I always get in the wrong line?_

From the rear of the line, she glanced at her watch and back at the register where a price check on Clearasil was taking an inordinate amount of time.

_Okay, it's Clearasil, people. How difficult could it be to find?_

Finally, a clerk moved with tortoise-like speed from the skin care aisle back up to the counter.

Back to her watch. Ten minutes. She'd been rooted to this spot for ten minutes while the line next to her zipped through. _Eleven_ minutes.

_Damn damn damn._

She clutched her purchase to her chest and took a tiny step forward as the unfortunate teen with the raging hormones paid for his Clearasil and shuffled out the door.

Her eyes fell yet again to her wrist. She was twenty minutes over her allotted lunch hour. Not that she cared about docked pay or written reprimands in her file. She just wanted to avoid Slocum at all costs, avoid any kind of confrontation. This was not a day she wanted to tangle with anyone.

Things had been going so well. She thought she was in the clear. It was six weeks since the shooting, and Woody was healing. It all seemed to be coming into place. He was getting strong and healthy, and each day she felt herself falling more and more in love with his strength and perseverance. They were _happy_. Nothing could change that, could it? Nigel was right. They deserved a break.

_God, this can't be happening. _

She took another step forward. Fifteen minutes. "Come on, move," she found herself saying out loud, and the old woman in front of her turned around and scowled. "Oh, sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean you." The old woman harumphed and turned back to the front of the line.

She closed her eyes. _Woody_. They were supposed to have dinner tonight. She was cooking for him. He had his six week post-op appointment that day, and he hoped for good news. She hoped they would have much to celebrate that night.

She had made up her mind. She would go back to work and sign out for the afternoon. She had missed so much already taking care of Woody, but she had enough vacation time stored up to last the whole summer. Besides, Slocum would be eager to get rid of another troublemaker, one of _Macy's_ people, for awhile.

Finally, the line inched forward, and she found herself at last at the counter. She felt like an embarrassed teenager buying condoms as she reached up and slid her purchase toward the bored clerk.

_Condoms. Now, that's ironic._

She could feel her cheeks burn as the clerk scanned the box, lazily punched the register's keypad and uncurled his hand for her ten-dollar bill.

"Have a nice day, miss," he muttered as he dropped the pregnancy test into a plastic bag and handed it back to her over the counter.

She mumbled something in reply and hurried back to the office as fast as she could.


	6. Finding Out

_A/N: I could hear some of your screams from here after Chapter 5! Sorry!_

_I really appreciate the reviews and comments, even the negative ones:) All I can say is...please stay with me (if any of you are actually still reading.) I thought long and hard about taking things in this direction and I hope you'll trust me on this. _

_XXXXXXXXX_

She sat curled on the floor of the bathroom with her back to the little stick on the edge of the sink.

Five minutes. The directions said to wait five minutes before checking the results. She nervously glanced at her watch. What was only two minutes seemed an eternity.

She found herself bargaining with God the way she used to as a child. _If you help me get an A on my test, if you give me a puppy for Christmas, I'll be good forever and ever._

_If you let it not be true, if you make the stick not turn pink..._

It was useless. What was done was done, one way or another.

She was a doctor. She had never been terribly regular, and she knew there were plenty of reasons why she might be late, not the least of which was the emotional strain she had been under. She and Nigel had taken precautions, after all, despite the drink and the frenzy of the moment. Still, nothing was perfect. _What if? What if?_

Woody would arrive any minute. What would it be? How would she tell him? If the test was negative, he need never know. A negative test would be a sign that they were meant to be. They could move on with their lives.

She clamped her eyes shut tight. She couldn't even think about a positive test. It wouldn't be positive. No. They had been through too much for this.

The second hand on her watch swept up past the twelve. Her heart fluttered, and she took a deep breath. Five minutes.

_One pink line, negative. Two pink lines, positive._

She reached up for the test stick on the sink. Her heart thudded wildly. _Please, God, please._ She pried her eyes open.

_One pink line._

She let out a ripple of laughter and blinked back relieved tears. One pink line. Negative.

_Thank you thank you thank you._

It was negative, and it felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It was all over.

She was aware of a ringing sound coming from somewhere in the apartment. Phone? Doorbell? She shook herself from her relieved daze.

Oven! She jumped to her feet and ran into the kitchen, laughing all the way, to rescue her lasagna from incineration.

XXXXX

"Well, how was it? How did it go?" she asked as he ignored her and hobbled into her apartment.

"Something smells good."

"Your favorite. Vegetarian lasagna," she said distractedly. "Well? Tell me!"

He answered by scooping her up with his free arm and kissing her long and hard. "I've got a clean bill of health. They expect a full recovery and...the doctor released me for all activity." He ran a string of kisses up her neck to her ear and whispered there, "I can't wait to hold you in my arms and make love to you tonight."

"Well, there are no rules that say we have to eat dinner first," she said seductively.

He raised his eyebrows at her and grinned. "I have a feeling I'm going to need all my strength tonight. Maybe we'd better eat."

She laughed and headed for the kitchen with the flowers. "Dinner'll be on the table in a minute."

"I'll wash up. Be right out."

She felt three inches off the ground as she put her flowers in water. Everything was perfect. If there was a nagging guilt about keeping something from Woody, she knew it would pass. What he didn't know would never hurt him.

She picked up her pan of lasagna and fairly bounced out from the kitchen. "Hey, Woody? You want red or white with this?" she called into him. "It's got a red sauce, but it's vegetarian. I don't know if that makes a difference. Honestly, I never understood those rules. Shouldn't you just drink what tastes good?"

She was babbling with excitement when she turned toward the bathroom. He was coming out slowly and looked up at her with hurt and confusion. She frowned. Something was wrong. "What...what is it?" And then her eyes fell to his outstretched hand. "Oh, God, Woody..."

The _stick_. She'd thrown it away, hadn't she?

"Well, I was going to ask you if this is what I think it is, but I think you just answered my question," he said very slowly and calmly, as if he were trying very hard to remain in control.

"I'm not pregnant," she said blinking back tears.

"But you thought you were." She nodded, and they faced each other there in a stunned silence. He didn't move but stood in the bathroom door with the stick clenched in his hand. "When?"

She looked down. She could lie to him, tell him she'd had a brief fling after the debacle with the ring. His pride might be hurt, but he would forgive her. He had dated, too, after all, and couldn't really hold it against her.

No. There had been enough lies already. Between her and Garret, between her and Woody. She knew almost to a certainty that if she told Woody the whole truth, she would lose him forever. But if they stood even an infinitesimal chance of surviving, she had to tell him everything. He deserved that.

She breathed deep and spoke in a tremulous voice. "After you were shot. The night you threw me out of your hospital room."

His head dropped. There was a long pause before he spoke again. She thought on some level he knew exactly what had happened. Finally, he looked back up at her. "Who, Jordan?"

"Nigel." He flung the stick down and staggered forward. "Woody! Please, Woody..."

He careened unsteadily, his face hard and cold, as he moved past her toward the door. "Don't, Jordan."

"Woody, please!" She ran past him and blocked his exit. "Please listen to me! It was a mistake! It didn't mean anything!"

"Nigel? Jesus, Jordan. _Nigel?_ I _work_ with him. I stood there the other day telling him how there were no more secrets between us. God, I'm a chump."

"Please, Woody. We were both torn up. You don't understand. I was devastated when you threw me out. I thought I'd lost you forever, and I drank myself into a blind stupor. Nigel was there. He was hurting, too, and it _just happened_. Please believe me. It's over. It never meant a thing. Please!"

"Move, Jordan."

"Woody, no. Don't do this." She reached out for his hand. "We'll talk about this. Please don't go. Stay. Just listen to me, please!"

"_I don't want to listen to anything you have to say, Jordan!_ It's _done._ I'm _through. _ I almost _died._ You stood there whispering all those things to me like you can't live without me, and then a few hours later, you're jumping in bed with _Nigel_? Jesus, how's that supposed to make me feel? Like I can trust you? Like I can believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"

"Please, I'm just trying to be honest, Woody. I _love_ you."

He sneered. "Honesty and love are two words you don't know the first thing about, Jordan." He slipped past her as she stood frozen in the doorway and stumbled down the hallway.

She called out to him pleadingly once more before he stepped into the elevator without looking back at her. Then, she shut the door and collapsed on the floor, her body racked with sobs.


	7. Angry Words

It all came back to the stick. The damn _stick._

She could have sworn she threw it in the trash and hadn't just left it there in plain sight. She had, hadn't she? But then maybe in the rush of the afternoon, getting dinner ready, she had overlooked it.

Or maybe it was something else. She had never been much for Freud, but it had occurred to her that she had subconsciously left the stick where Woody could find it. There was more than a small part of her that had wanted to tell him the whole truth all along, and she wished now she had listened to it.

The elevator doors parted and she stepped out into the lobby. Nigel was at the front desk signing for a package, and she breezed past him.

"Morning, Jordan," he murmured, and she waved a hand at him without speaking. "Jordan, you all right? Jordan?"

She quickened her pace down the hallway and pretended she hadn't heard, but he reached out and grabbed her arm.

He stepped back in surprise when she finally turned around. She couldn't imagine what she must have looked like with her swollen red cheeks and puffy eyes.

He took her shoulders in his hands. "Jordan! What's the matter? Is it Woody? Is he okay?"

She looked down in shame. "_He's_ fine," she said quietly. "_We're_ not."

"What happened?"

"He knows. Everything."

Nigel groaned and covered his face with his hands. "How did he find out?"

"It doesn't matter."

He exhaled and stood with his hands on his hips. "Have you tried talking to him?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! I've been trying all weekend. He won't take my calls or emails, he won't see me. I've tried. It's over." Her voice rose in frustration.

"He'll come around, Jordan."

"Maybe. Maybe not." She laughed humorlessly. "I'm just glad it's in the open. It was eating a hole in me. Look, I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"It's all right. I'm a big boy. I can take my medicine. I'm just sorry that things turned out the way they did."

She smiled weakly and nodded. "Me, too. You know that old saying...it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? Well, it's _crap._" She turned and hurried toward her office.

XXXXXXXXX

The waking hours were difficult, but at least he could distract himself with physical therapy and catching up on a stack of files they had sent over from the precinct.

It was the dark hours that were the hardest. Each time he lay down and closed his eyes, he could see it: Nigel's hands on her soft body, her ripe mouth on his. It was agonizing.

He loved her; he still wanted her. Of course he did, he knew that, or it wouldn't have hurt as much as it did. He loved her; he ached for her, but he couldn't have her. Not after this.

It was early evening. He dreaded this time of day when the light began to fade, and he faced the long, sleepless night ahead. On most evenings, he ordered take-out and sprawled out in front of the television until the small hours of morning when he would finally fall asleep from sheer exhaustion.

It had only been a few days since he had walked out of Jordan's apartment, but he had already spiraled down into a black mood. His usually spotless apartment was in disarray, and he sat, unshaven and unshowered, waiting for his Chinese take-out in his ratty bathrobe.

The doorbell finally rang. He hobbled over with his money for the Chinese, and opened the door.

It was Nigel, standing with his motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm. Woody felt a sick feeling rise in the back of his throat and the red flush of anger burn up his cheeks.

"Can I come in?" Nigel asked sheepishly.

Woody clenched his jaw. "Why not? You've taken away everything else that I ever loved. Might as well invade my apartment, too."

He stepped aside as Nigel entered the room and kicked at an empty pizza box and soda cans that were piled in a heap on the floor.

"What do you want, Nigel?"

"I came here because..." He sighed. "I'm not sure why I came here, really."

"Let me help you. To rub it in? To hold it over my head that you've had the one thing I wanted most but could never have?"

"I just thought I owed it to you. Man to man. I'm sorry, Woody. But you must know -- it meant nothing. She loved you. She still does, but she thought there was nothing left between you when it happened. It was just..._sex_." Woody flinched at the word and stood, unmoved, by the door. "Well, I just wanted you to hear that. I'd better..." He swept past Woody but was stopped by the sudden icy sound of his voice.

"How'd you do it, Nigel? I mean...I've loved her almost since I first laid eyes on her. She asked for space, I gave it to her. She needed time, I gave it to her. I was patient, because I loved her, and I knew she loved me, too, and I figured when she was ready..." He smiled bitterly. "But it took you all of about two hours to get her into bed. So, what was it? Was it the cute accent? Was it the biker thing? The leather pants? Is Jordan into that? Maybe she's a little kinky? See, I wouldn't know, because..."

"_Stop_, Woody! I know you're angry, but do you hear what you're saying? How can you talk that way about her? The woman you profess to love? Look, mate, if you weren't half-crippled, I'd knock your lights out."

"No, you look, _mate..._if I weren't half-crippled, you wouldn't have made it past the door."

They glared at each other in an angry stand-off. After a moment, Nigel sighed wearily.

"This is your bloody pride talking, Woody. What is it that you're _really_ angry about? Is is that she slept with someone else, or that she didn't tell you about it? Is it that she slept with someone else, or that it was _me?_ Surely you didn't think she was a virgin when you met, did you? She finally realized how much she loved you and how much she wanted to tell you, and you rejected her. She was devastated."

"So devastated she jumped in the sack with the first guy that came along? I was out of my mind, and she didn't even put a fight for me?"

Nigel shrugged sadly. "People do strange things when they're in pain. They don't always act the way their loved ones might hope they would." There was a beat while Nigel raised an eyebrow at Woody and leaned in purposefully. "Do they, Woody?"

Woody looked up with wide eyes. His mouth fell open. "What do you know?"

"Hadn't you heard? I'm everyone's crying shoulder down at the morgue." Woody shuffled away and turned his back on Nigel. Nigel picked up his helmet and started for the door. "Maybe you should think about why you're _really_ angry. And if maybe there isn't some room in your heart for forgiveness. I told Jordan if I were you, I'd never let her get away. What are _you_ going to do?"

He was gone and shut the door behind him, leaving Woody shaken and alone as he brushed away a hot tear of shame.


	8. Sleepless Nights

_A/N: Thanks for your reviews and comments. As always, they are much appreciated. _

_I think this will probably start winding down pretty quickly. I've never gotten how some fanfic authors can churn out these epics with 20 chapters. I start to run out of steam around chapter eight. Anyway, I hope it will still be wrapped up in a satisfactory way for everyone!_

_XXXXXXXXXXX_

_He is in darkness. He is only aware that his legs are healed, and he can walk unaided._

_His eyes grow accustomed to the dim, and he sees that he is in an empty room. There is only a door on one of the bare, black walls. He opens it, and it leads to another room, exactly the same as the one before. _

_There is a voice coming from the distance. A woman's laughter: its throaty alto is all too familiar. She calls his name, and he follows through the door, on an on through a dizzying maze._

_He searches in a rising panic as her voice seems at once to be coming from all directions. Finally, he pushes on into yet another room, and its white light is blinding._

_There is someone there. Her voice is strong and clear. She is calling him on. He staggers forward, shielding his eyes from the glare. A shape begins to emerge. A bed? It is enveloped in a white curtain. She is inside, waiting for him._

_"Jordan. I'm here," he calls, and parts the curtain._

_She is there, kneeling on the bed. Her hair falls loosely across her bare shoulders. She turns to him and smiles._

_"Jordan..." He reaches out for her, and then realizes with horror that she is not alone. _

_Nigel is beneath her. His hands run up the small of her back and around to her breasts. She moans with pleasure. He knows then it is not a beckoning smile she is giving him, she is taunting him. Her lips part, and she laughs. Nigel joins her, and he clamps his hands over his ears as their mocking laughter fills the room._

XXXXXXX

He awoke, breathless, heart racing.

The dream was familiar by now. He'd had it or one like it every night since he had found out about Jordan and Nigel.

Sleep was over for the night, he knew. The TV channel he had been watching had switched over to a test pattern. He leaned forward for the coffee table and rummaged amid the empty Chinese take-out containers for the remote.

The TV snapped off, and he stared at the little green dot in the middle of the screen as it faded to black.

Nigel was right. He didn't know where to direct his anger. He had known, in theory, that Jordan had a past. She was no blushing virgin, but he preferred being blissfully ignorant of the details. Had his own fragile male ego shattered when faced with reality?

Or was he angry that she had turned to _Nigel_ of all people? He was surprised to hear that Nigel had gotten involved with Sarah. He had always assumed that Nigel didn't tend that way. Here he was, the All-American Boy Scout, with his big blue eyes, Pepsodent smile, and sturdy, Mid-Western confidence, and he had lost out to this pale, androgynous Goth biker with the sissy accent. Is that what Jordan wanted all along?

It was all of those things. But there was something else, too. He always came to this same conclusion in these waking hours. It wasn't just that Jordan had slept with someone else. He had hinted as much to Nigel that night.

_She didn't fight._

He had been racked with fear and pain, afraid he would never walk again, afraid that he would become a burden to the woman he loved, so he pushed her away. And she went without a fight. She turned and left without another word, looking back at him once with hurtful eyes before sweeping out of the room.

_She didn't fight._

Instead of fighting, she had run to Nigel. Is that how little he had mattered to her?

But then he heard Nigel's words still ringing in his ears: _ People do strange things when they're in pain. They don't always act the way their loved ones might hope they would_. _Do they, Woody?_

"You bastard..." Woody muttered aloud. How had he known?

_I'm everyone's crying shoulder down at the morgue..._

The red lights on his VCR read 4:47. It would be morning soon. Perhaps it was time to shower and shave and find something to wear other than a pair of boxers and a pizza-stained t-shirt. He threw off his blue terry bathrobe and headed for the bathroom.

XXXXXXX

The flowers he brought her were dead. She had wanted to throw them away that night when he walked out, but the delicate little pink blossoms somehow gave her hope.

Now, they were faded and wilted. She picked up the vase and started for the trashcan, when it slipped from her hands and landed with a crash on the floor. She cursed under her breath and leaned down to pick up the shards.

Her hand suddenly flew up, and she hissed in pain. Tiny droplets of blood fell from her finger and dripped down into the puddled water. It all seemed a poetic commentary on the state of her life, and she sat crying in the mess of shattered glass and dead flowers.

The phone rang, and she quickly dried her eyes as she picked it up. There was a long pause after she said hello.

"Jordan?" Her heart skipped a beat.

"Woody..." She bit her lip as he paused again.

"I was wondering. If you don't have any plans...can we get together tonight?" He spoke cautiously. "I know it's late notice, but I was hoping we could talk."

She supposed she should jump at the chance, but she hesitated. What could he possibly have to say to her? Had he not made things clear enough? His words had hurt her enough already.

"Sure..." She glanced up at the clock. "Can we meet at the Pogue in a half hour? It's not called the Pogue anymore, but you know where it is." At least in public, they would have to be civil to one another.

"Thanks, Jordan." There was a sudden, unmistakable eagerness in his voice. "I'll see you at seven."

XXXXX

She got to the Pogue first. The new owner had renamed it Maggie O'Neill's after his Irish grandmother, but not much else had changed. She waited nervously with a drink in one of the private booths in the back, not knowing how she would feel when she saw him.

Then, he was there in the doorway, scanning the room, and her heart fluttered in anticipation. His eyes connected with hers, and he nodded in her direction as he crossed and stood awkwardly next to the table for a moment.

_Woody_. He stood there, seeming smaller and weaker than before the shooting. But then she saw his cowlick, unsmoothed as usual, and his small, lopsided smile. He was still Woody, and all the feelings came flooding back.

She swallowed hard and fought the tears. "Hi..."

"Hi." He slid into the booth opposite her. "Thank you for meeting me here. I wasn't sure..." he started with uneasiness. "There are some things I wanted to say to you."

"Oh?" Her throat was dry with anxiety.

"Nigel came to see me last night."

She groaned and bent her head. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Woody. I swear I didn't put him up to it..."

"I know, I know you didn't. It's okay. It's been tearing me apart, thinking about you and..._him_." He found it difficult to look at her. "I've been so angry, and it's a lot of reasons, really. The way I found out, the fact that it was someone I know. And I guess I have to take my share of the blame for throwing you out of my hospital room that night. I just wish you had trusted me enough to know that I didn't really mean it."

"I know. I've gone over and over it in my mind. I should have stayed. If I had just stayed..."

"It's okay, Jordan."

She blinked hard and looked up from her drink. _It's okay?_ That sounded mighty close to forgiveness, or at least understanding. "It is?" she asked in a small voice.

He licked his lips with nervousness and forged ahead. "Things happen sometimes, because you're hurt and angry and confused. Nigel reminded me of that." He took a deep breath, not sure how things would change once he told her his story. "I think there's something you need to know. About me."


	9. Confession Time

She shut her eyes with a sense of foreboding. Whatever he had to tell her, she knew it would not be good.

"You don't have to do this, Woody."

"No. I do. If we're ever going to have a chance." A chance. They still had a chance.

She nodded. "All right..."

He blew out his breath. "Last fall...you stood me up. For my awards banquet."

"I know, and I'm sorry..."

"_Please._ Let me finish. Anyway... I pretended like it didn't bother me. But it did. And then a couple of nights later, you did it again. We were supposed to go out, and you blew me off with some flimsy excuse. The next day I was working on a case with Devan. She drove me crazy, but...I _liked_ her. She was cute and fun, and I knew she was interested. She kept asking me about you. I assured her we were just friends, and she seemed relieved. I started thinking. _She_ wants to be with me. She sees something in me she likes, and she's not running in the opposite direction."

He paused, struggling for words, and she felt her heart sink. _Devan._ She looked away and blinked her eyes against the tears that had pooled there. After a moment, he went on. His voice was dark and heavy.

"We went back to her place that night. Got some take-out, picked up a couple DVDs. I was so angry at you. All I wanted to do was love you, and you treated me like my feelings didn't even matter. So...one thing led to another, and Devan and I ended up in bed together. " His face clouded over, and he looked down at the table.

"I felt horrible the next morning. I knew the only reason I'd done it was to get back at you in some crazy way, and I'd used Devan. That's not the way I treat women. I told her we'd rushed into things and that we should take things slowly. She said she understood, but I could tell she was hurt. I think she knew the way I really felt." And then he added sadly, "She died three weeks later."

That was it. He sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him. She took a sip of her drink.

"Wow. I...didn't know that you..." She shut her eyes for a moment. _Devan_...all blonde hair and batting eyelashes. She had pushed so hard, she had pushed him into Devan's arm.

"She was a great girl, Jordan. But she wasn't you. I felt terrible about what happened, and I wanted to tell you. It just seemed like you and I were getting closer this spring. I really felt like something was going to happen between us, and I was afraid how you might react."

She held up her hands. "Hey, I had no claims on you last fall. You and Devan were free to do whatever you wanted."

A silence followed. "But it still makes a difference. Doesn't it."

Perhaps too much had happened between them. Perhaps they had simply missed their chance to be together, and it was time to walk away. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't know."

"Well." He exhaled heavily and rapped his knuckles against the table. "Thanks for your honesty. What a mess, huh?"

"Yeah..." She laughed ruefully through tears.

"Goodbye, Jordan." He stood before she could speak again and hobbled out as quickly as he could.

She sat there for a long while, too dazed to move, to feel anything, sipping numbly at her tepid drink.


	10. Making Amends

Garret came back.

Slocum never turned the damning evidence over to the authorities. It gave him too much perverse pleasure to have it locked away in his desk, leaving it dangle over Garret's head like a sword.

And then Slocum had issued one too many employee memos, the staff had revolted, and the governor had been forced to call Garret back.

The morale at the morgue lifted immediately, and the tension between Garret and Jordan seemed to evaporate as soon as he came back through the elevator doors and caught her in a warm hug as the staff applauded his entrance.

Later, he pulled her aside. "I'm sorry. I know I've disappointed you."

"Yeah, you did, Garret..."

"It was twenty years ago. I'm not that person anymore. I was being pressured from above. We had a newborn, and I couldn't lose my job. I know it's no excuse"

"It's all right, Garret." That was all there was to say. They had all done things that they lived to regret. A life couldn't be measured in its mistakes. It was time to forgive Garret.

It was Woody she was finding harder to forgive. They hadn't spoken since he had left the Pogue that night. It was ridiculous, hypocritical. She knew that, rationally. But there was nothing rational about her emotions: anger, jealousy, guilt. He had slept with Devan. It suddenly seemed as if the fates were conspiring against them. This was just too hard. Perhaps it was simply not meant to be.

It was a wise decision. Make a clean break. Move on. It was the right thing to do, even if two weeks later, the pain of it cut as bright and deep as ever.

She tried to beg off when the others decided to throw Garret a welcome back party at the pub across the street from the morgue, but Lily dragged her bodily there with the promise of a good time. She didn't particularly want a good time, but she went and raised a glass to Garret.

The mood was light, and she even found herself smiling and laughing after a couple of stiff drinks. For a moment, Woody Hoyt was the furthest thing from her mind.

The jukebox was blaring, and they were singing along. Nigel had slipped his arm around her and swayed with her to the music. She threw her head back with a tipsy laugh, and then the door opened and the bell -- that _damned bell_ -- jangled cheerily.

They all turned to the door, and the laugh caught in her throat. It was Woody, standing apprehensively in the doorway. His cane was gone, and he walked inside with a slight limp. Their eyes met. There was a small smile, but it disappeared as his eyes fell to Nigel's arm wrapped protectively around her waist.

She didn't know he had been invited, and if she had, she probably would not have come. She thought perhaps he might turn to go, but then Lily ran to greet him. "Woody! I'm glad you could make it! You look _wonderful!_"

He flashed her a forced smile and crossed to where Garret sat at the end of the bar. "Welcome back, Doc." He offered his hand.

"Welcome back, yourself. I hear you're back on duty, too."

"Well, they've got me chained to a desk for the time being, but it's great to be at work again. I was really going crazy cooped up at home by myself." He glanced at Jordan then, and she quickly looked away.

"Well, have a drink! Stay awhile!" chirped Lily.

He waved at the bartender and stood next to Jordan in a painful silence. "Hi, Jordan," he finally said.

"Hey!" she said with artificial brightness. "Good to see you. You look..._great._ No cane?"

"No! How about that? The doctors don't believe it." He beamed, and she smiled back warmly. The bartender passed him his drink. They struggled for words, and he finally went to the other end of the bar with a small nod. It was bittersweet. He was doing fine. It was all she had wanted those weeks ago as he lay close to death on that gurney. But he was no longer hers.

Nigel hopped onto the barstool next to her.

"He's a fool."

"So you've said, Nigel."

"It bears repeating."

"It's not his fault this time. I know about Devan."

"Ah."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"She asked me not to," he said pointedly. "Believe it or not, Jordan, she liked you. She didn't want to hurt you. And when someone asks me to keep a secret, I keep it. I've still never told anyone about that podiatrist and your lost weekend in Atlantic City..."

She shuddered at the memory and laughed. "Okay, I get it. Point taken."

They sipped silently at their drinks. She watched Woody at the other end of the bar. He sat alone, smiling and nodding occasionally when someone would come his way. He quickly ordered another beer and downed it with alarming speed.

Bug and Lily migrated over to where she and Nigel were sitting. Bug leaned over and grabbed a handful of peanuts. "What's with Mister Morose down there at the other end of the bar? He makes _me_ look like the life of the party."

"Yeah, is he all right, Jordan?" Lily chimed in. "Has he been..."

Nigel frowned, and Lily's mouth snapped shut. He waved them off as Jordan polished off her drink.

"There's no hope, then?" he said nodding in Woody's direction.

"Nope. Just not meant to be, Nige." It was the phrase she had repeated over and over to herself these last two weeks.

"So, you and Woody are really and truly over?"

"Yep. Really and truly over."

"But you still love him, don't you?" His voice was soft with concern.

"Yep." And then: "Is it that obvious?"

"Yep."

She put her head down on her hands and groaned. The room had begun to spin a bit from the alcohol and lack of food. She was not aware that Nigel had gotten up and slipped more money into the jukebox. He pulled her to her feet and out onto the floor before she could protest.

"Nigel! What are you doing?"

"Live a little, Jordan! Kick your heels up. You're a free woman now," he purred into her ear and spun her across the floor. She wobbled unsteadily, but then he pulled her back and drew her tightly to him.

She could still see Woody in the blur each time Nigel spun her around. He was there on the barstool, watching them with narrowed eyes and a hard set of his jaw.

Nigel's hands were on her back, and he suddenly buried his face in the crook of her neck. "Nigel, come on!"

Suddenly, Woody was in her line of view. He was moving determinedly across the floor toward them. "Let her go, Nigel." The stern edge of his voice barely covered the emotion underneath.

"It's okay, Woody." She pushed away from Nigel, but he grabbed her hand and yanked her back.

"Let her go or _what_? She's a big girl. She can make her own decisions."

Jordan slipped her wrist from his grasp. "Okay, boys. No sense fighting over little ole me. Why don't you two just..."

"You see, she doesn't want you anymore," Nigel suddenly said, his voice just loud enough so a few of the partygoers turned and looked on with curiosity.

"Nigel!" She turned to him in disbelief.

"I believe her exact words were 'really and truly over.'"

Woody looked at her questioningly.

"Nigel, stop right now, okay? This has gone too far." She put her hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but he stormed forward. She looked back at Woody. His eyes were full of hurt as he retreated a few steps toward the door. "Woody! No, wait! Don't go!"

"Let him go, Jordan," Nigel said wearily. The room had grown still, and everyone looked on varying degrees of embarrassment. "As you said, it just wasn't meant to be." His raised his voice again so that Woody wouldn't miss it. "Perhaps he wasn't _man_ enough..."

The air seemed to have been sucked from the room. They all waited in deadened silence. And then Woody spun and landed a punch on Nigel's jaw. He teetered backward, arms flailing as he looked up with stunned eyes.

There was a moment of stillness. Jordan looked on mutely as Nigel curled his right hand into a fist and connected it with Woody's jaw. Woody reeled but quickly steadied himself and grabbed Nigel around the middle. They tumbled backward into a table, sending a pair of mugs crashing onto the floor.

It took four men to separate them and pull them to opposite ends of the bar as they huffed breathlessly. Lily had begun to cry, and Jordan looked on in stunned silence as they glowered.

"You could have _killed_ each other!" she yelled as she stood between them.

Nigel skulked over to the bar and resumed his place.

_Woody. _He was still weakened. He could have been seriously hurt. She turned quickly toward him as Garret released his grip on Woody's arm.

"Are you all right?" she asked, masking her concern.

"I'm _fine_."

"That's a nasty cut over your eye. Come on. You're coming with me."

XXXXXXXX

She whisked him out of the bar and over to the morgue. He sat now on her office sofa, and she knelt on the floor in front of him with the first aid kit, dabbing at the cut over his eye with antiseptic.

"Ow! Jeez, Jordan. That stings!"

"You were shot in the gut by an armor-piercing bullet, and you're going to complain about a little Bactine on a cut? _Men!"_ She slammed the first aid kit closed for emphasis. "You're really stupid, you know that?"

"_Me?"_

"Nigel trained with the SAS, for Pete's sake. He probably knows 100 ways to kill you with his pinkie."

"Yeah, well. Something tells me Old Nigel was pulling his punches tonight. My guess is he set that whole thing up."

She nodded slowly. "The thought had occurred to me." She rose and flopped onto the sofa next to him.

"Anyway..." He looked at her sideways and grinned slyly. "I still got some pretty good punches in, didn't I?"

"Don't you smile at me. I'm very, very angry with you." He poked her in the ribs. "Stop. I mean it." But she smiled in spite of herself. They were silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Jordan," he said in quiet simplicity. "I'm sorry about Devan. It was wrong on so many levels, and I ended up hurting both of you."

She nodded. "I'm sorry about leaving you in the hospital. I should have stayed. You're worth fighting for." She reached for his hand. "I'm sorry about everything."

He finally folded his fingers around hers. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know. I just know I don't want this to be over."

"Then it's not." She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he slipped his arm around her. After a moment, she felt him press his lips softly against her forehead. "I don't think I'm in any shape to drive home, Jordan."

"Me neither," she muttered sleepily. She drew her legs up onto the sofa and laid her head on his lap.

"Good. Let's just stay here for awhile."

THE END


End file.
